


Surrender, Surrender

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Edgeplay, Fix-It, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Injury Recovery, M/M, Pet Names, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Service Top, Spanking, Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 14:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21272672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For tumblr user chenetic's request-- Eddie calls Richie 'daddy' in bed, and Richie likes it. A lot.Eddie's never known how to define this thing they do, but he knows it makes him happy-- it makes him feel stronger, surer, more himself. If he can also make Richie happy, that's all he wants.





	Surrender, Surrender

Eddie is dripping with sweat, and it should disgust him. The sheets are damp where he touches them, he can feel the tickle of it running down and pooling at the backs of his knees, beading on his upper lip, his whole back feels slick with it, it should be _ repulsive_.

It’s not.

Richie’s mouth is moving over his ass, lips gentle against reddened skin, and every so often he nips at him, sharp and quick, never biting down very hard. Richie’s fingers are _ in _ his ass, where they’ve _ been _, ever since he finished spanking him and decided to fucking edge him instead, and Eddie’s way past pretending he doesn’t live and breathe for it. He loves the way it feels, Richie’s big hands on him, in him, Richie taking him apart so that he can feel reborn. 

It’s not something he thinks any of his friends could really understand. He’s barely comfortable with anyone knowing he’s gay, let alone the kinky stuff-- before Richie, before this, he wasn’t even comfortable knowing himself. He’s getting better at it. It’s easier in LA, where Richie keeps him loved up, where people feel more accepting than they had in his old circles. New York might have an active gay scene, yes, but… stuck married to Myra, with her friends or ‘work friends’, he wasn’t seeing any of that. He was buried in denial and shame and guilt. He admitted his feelings to himself when he saved Richie from the deadlights, and when he thought he was going to die, he had accepted his whole self, as if a veil had been lifted and all the things he once believed he was able to shed and rise above. And then he survived, and he went through with leaving Myra, and Richie moved him out to rest and recover in a beautiful house in the hills… Richie helped him bear all the doctors that came with his slow recovery, Richie answered his love with such an overpowering adoration of his own. 

And that much he feels safe sharing with their closest friends. They all understand what the love between them is. But there’s no one he thinks he could explain the other thing to. Richie, though… Richie knows. Eddie was never struck, as a child, not even once. His mother’s abuse had come in a far more insidious way, but also… well, he never came to associate being spanked with punishment or displeasure. Instead, pain was rebellion, freedom-- pain was the thing she locked him away from, and while he still very much wants to avoid _ harm_, while he doesn’t like the pain that comes with serious injury and the way that it lingers, there’s something exhilarating about being able to feel a little inconsequential pain. There’s something exhilarating in Richie giving that to him, taking Sonia Kaspbrak’s little boy and giving him all the things he was never allowed to have-- long-denied treats and deep fried foods and fast drives and sex and pain and an overwhelming love for a man who is his equal and his partner and his joy in life. 

He likes the edge of pain, some of the time, feels like he needs it some of the time, and when he needs it, Richie gives it to him, voice dripping praise as he turns Eddie’s backside pink, or between bites that will bruise just a little. But it’s more than pain, it’s… it’s Richie, with his big hands, with his strong arms, surprisingly strong for a comedian who claims to hate working out. It’s letting Richie move him around and take what he wants, letting Richie control him because he trusts Richie to never hurt him-- he trusts Richie to treat that control as a gift, as a sacred trust, to take good care of him and then to restore his autonomy and his power and his strength-- to restore it tenfold. He feels so much stronger and more capable the day after he gives everything over to Richie… and he’s so afraid that if he tried to say that he and Richie did this thing sometimes, people would take it wrong. That their closest friends would think of how Eddie’s life was never his to control as a child and think it was unhealthy to do this now, but it’s so different… 

Just as well he prefers to keep their sex life private. If he’s not talking about any of it, it’s easy enough not to talk about this, and the way Richie makes him feel.

“Baby, I’m going to fuck you so good…” Richie promises, and Eddie’s cock jerks, spills a dribble of precome down onto the bed beneath him. He’s so worked up, and he’s been worked up for so long… 

It started with Eddie asking-- he’d had a good day, but a hard one. The workouts in the pool that his physical therapist recommended he do at home weren’t so much physically strenuous as emotionally so, now that his strength and stamina are up. It means acknowledging his scars, not as bad as they might have been if Richie had been slower in pulling him out of It’s path, but a jagged, ugly reminder of his near death experience. It means acknowledging the change to his body, and everything he’s lost to his injuries, and how far he has to go, and what it means for his overall health and life expectancy… it’s just a lot to deal with. So while Richie had afternoon meetings with his agent and manager and some producer, Eddie took a slow and steady approach in the pool, and dealt with the reality of his body as it is. And when Richie brought home an early dinner from one of Eddie’s favorite restaurants, and they’d eaten out poolside with Eddie just wrapped in a lightweight robe after his post-swim shower, he’d walked his fingertips up Richie’s arm, asked if he wanted to take good care of him…

Maybe for someone else a spanking would be a punishment, but to Eddie it was a reward. That’s how Richie had framed it for him, he’d asked him if he wanted a reward for working so hard on his recovery, and he’d kissed him… the way he always does when he really wants to make Eddie’s toes curl, where he’s in control and Eddie feels like he could melt into Richie’s hands and be caught and held safe. They’d headed up to the bedroom, Eddie had shed that robe and stood naked before Richie, and then those big, sure hands had moved him to lie across Richie’s lap, and he’d petted at him, squeezed at him, promised him the world and _ delivered _ it… 

Eddie had been grinding against his thigh, as much as he could stand to given Richie was wearing jeans, grinning every time Richie told him to stop, gave him a lightly stinging tap that wasn’t quite like his usual strokes, even though there are never any consequences for disobeying. Well, except for an uncomfortable level of friction, his own doing. And Richie had undressed after, gently smacked Eddie’s hands away from helping, telling him this was going to be all about taking care of _ him_, that he wasn’t allowed to worry about anything at all because Richie had it all under control, that he could get on his hands and knees in the center of the bed like a good boy if he wanted to do something for Richie, and that’s how he got here, worked up beyond belief thanks to those fingers sliding into him and making him feel so good. Richie knows exactly how to make him feel good… and exactly how to pull back right before he can give him enough. So when Richie promises him enough, Eddie can’t hold back.

“_Please_, please, fuck me, daddy.” He groans, pushing back onto those fingers. “I need it, I do.”

Richie freezes-- the sound of his breath is sharp and startling in a suddenly-still room. For a moment, Eddie thinks he must have done something wrong, and then he feels a shaky sigh against the sweat at the small of his back. 

“I’m going to give you everything you need, baby, right now, you’ve been so good.” The words spill out of Richie in return, at last, and he kisses up Eddie’s back, his tongue darts out to lick a path through the sheen of sweat Eddie knows clings to his skin. “How do you want it? Just like this, or on your back?”

Eddie doesn’t know-- he loves having Richie drive into him from behind, the angle and the power behind it, how it means his hips slam up against Eddie’s tenderized backside after a spanking. But in times like this, it also means so much to be able to look at each other, to kiss. He moans, helpless, and Richie picks up on his slightest distress-- and on the reason for it. 

“Okay, okay… here, Eddie my love, I’ve got you. You’ve been in this position long enough, why don’t I get you comfy?”

And there are Richie’s big hands again, the fingers that have only just slid free of his hole wiped clean before he’s carefully moving Eddie, getting the extra pillow beneath his hips

“That’s right…” Richie continues, helping him get himself positioned. “Wrap those sexy legs around me, baby, and I’ll take you… yeah, I’ll take you all the way there. Oh, Eds, you have no idea how cute you are.”

Eddie hums, wrapping his arms around Richie as well, clinging to him. Here, like this, he doesn’t protest the nicknames, and he doesn’t protest ‘cute’. He loves it, and when they’re like this, he’s not afraid to let Richie know he does-- there’s no one to posture in front of, none of his own misguided pride in the way, everything between them is so open and so good… 

Richie slides into him, slow, until he’s fully seated, and Eddie lets out a loud, long groan, arms and legs squeezing further.

“So good…” 

“Yeah?”

“You make me feel so good. I-- I--”

“Shh…” Richie kisses his cheeks, when he’s overwhelmed, when he’s past words. “Oh, Eddie… you feel good for me, too-- you were fucking made to take my cock, shit, you look so good like this… You know I-- You know how proud I am--”

“You’re proud of me, Rich?” He asks, drunk on the feeling of being his. It’s not as if Richie keeps that a secret, he always tells him he’s proud of him-- after every appointment with doctors and therapists, physical or otherwise. After every milestone in his recovery. After every sign that he’s moving forward in his life and escaping the cycle of abuse that’s marked his past. 

“I’m proud you chose me.” Richie shakes his head, and his glasses are slipping down his nose, and his eyes are so wide and clear… “I’m proud a man as strong as you decided to be mine.”

It’s too much to process. Eddie leans up to bury his face against Richie’s neck, to breathe him in as best he can, even though his lungs seem to protest breathing at all. 

Richie whispers wordless reassurance to him until his breaths come easy again-- or as easy as they can come, when he’s being fucked. At this slow pace, well enough. It’s enough, after all the edging, almost too much, just to feel Richie inside him.

“Fuck, your cock is so big…” He groans. “You fill me up so good.”

“Yeah, babe… that’s what I’m here for. Just here to make you feel good.”

He rolls his hips, barely sliding out only to bottom out again. 

“Shit, so good to me…”

“Say it.” Richie is breathless. Poised over him, his hand spread wide over Eddie’s chest, sliding so slowly down. “Say it again, Eddie, tell me you need me, tell me--”

“I need you.” He tries to get closer, tries to take more in, but Richie’s so deep in him as it is. “Ohh, oh Rich-- Rich--”

“Baby…”

“Let me come. Let me come, daddy, fuck me on that big cock, I’m so close…”

Richie speeds up as he begs, muffling a keening sound against Eddie’s shoulder as he comes, rhythm faltering but never stopping, not until Eddie is with him. 

“You’re so good for me.” Richie whispers against him, and he sounds _ wrecked _. Eddie knows the feeling-- there’s nothing he can do but float on a hazy tide of bliss, sore and incredibly happy. 

Richie cleans him up, eventually-- he couldn’t say how long before Richie summoned up the strength, just knows that Richie moves him around as needed, and it no longer feels strange and humiliating to be cleaned up in such an intimate fashion. It feels good… it feels good knowing Richie will always take care of him when he needs him to. When he isn’t wrecked like this, Eddie often handles cleanup, it feels only fair and he certainly likes being clean, but when he feels too weak, too heavy and too light all at once, Richie will always take care of it for them. He’s carefully shifted away from where they’ve left the sheets wet, his head hits a pillow and a blanket comes up over him. 

“Rich?”

“Yeah, Eds?”

“Love you.” He sighs. Even that feels like an effort now.

“I love you, too, baby. Where does it hurt?”

“Doesn’t. Nice-sore.”

“Okay, good.” Richie kisses his forehead. “What do you want to drink?”

Eddie hums wordlessly, and so Richie cups his cheek, tender. 

“Baby? Tea or juice? Or just water?” He tries, rubbing circles over Eddie’s chest. “Juice?”

Eddie nods.

“Okay, honey. Fuck, you’re cute like this. You look like you had a real good time… Okay, sit tight, baby-doll. Daddy’s going to get you your stuff. Shit, is it weird if I refer to myself as ‘Daddy’? Is that weird? Is ‘baby-doll’ weird?”

Eddie pats his cheek, a little gracelessly. “Shush. Love you.”

“Love you.” Richie smiles, and kisses his forehead. “You’re all tucked in so you’ll be warm while you wait. I’m going to bring you one of your juices and I’m going to get your lotion. After you have your juice, I’m going to rub you down, okay? Then I’ll help you get ready for bed. Sound good?”

“Good.” He echoes. Richie puts music on for him before he leaves the room, soft, one of the mixes he’d made for Eddie, and then Eddie’s alone in the room, but he doesn’t feel alone. All tucked in with the lights on low and the music playing, he feels far from alone. 

Richie has one of his bottles of juice, something with kale in it, he holds it steady and guides the reusable straw to Eddie’s lips, holds him up while he drinks, and Eddie cuddles into him, with more uncoordinated petting on his end, his hand landing at Richie’s chest and pawing around a little. He likes how hairy he is-- not too much, but enough. Likes how it feels, both silky and rough. 

The lotion smells like coconut and something else, tropical and not too fruity or floral. Richie rubs it into the skin of his backside and bitten thighs, but also up over his torso, over his neck and shoulders. His muscles are already lax, but it still feels good to have Richie’s strong hands kneading at him. And Richie rubs more in over his scars, gentle and attentive. Eddie doesn’t know that there’s still any benefit to be had, but it makes him feel accepted, the way Richie always includes those parts of him, the way he touches the scars so unflinchingly. 

He’s walked through his evening routine, Richie going so far as to brush his teeth for him when his arms feel like clumsy dead weight. Richie helps him slip into a silk pajama shirt, a set in Richie’s size, dark red. It shows off a lot of collarbone and a bit of chest-- one more button undone and it could show off a shoulder, if tugged. The sleeves swallow half his hands. Richie wears the pants that go with, and Eddie tangles their legs together in bed, so that he can feel the silk against his legs as well. Richie’s arms are warm around him when he pulls him in close to his chest.

“Get some good sleep, good boy.” Richie nuzzles at his hair. “I love you so much. Hey… pancakes tomorrow? With strawberries? That soy bacon you swear by? Scrambled eggs? Cappuccino? You tell me what you want and it’s yours, anything you want. You deserve something special… for the way you make me feel, you deserve it all.”

Eddie’s sure that’s backwards, somehow, but he doesn’t argue.

“Yeah, let’s. All of it.” He smiles, and lets sleep take him.


End file.
